Exceptional Service
by C. Hawthorne
Summary: Suzaku works as a bellhop during the summer months. Lelouch owns the largest company in Britannia proper. When it comes down to it, they're nothing more than two people bound by their most basic needs. / one shot. / for the kinkmeme.


Summary: Suzaku works as a bellhop during the summer months. Lelouch owns the largest company in Britannia proper. When it comes down to it, they're nothing more than two people bound by their most basic needs. Written for the Code Geass kink meme.

_**exceptional service**_

"So where do you need me to put these?"

"Over there, by the door." Lelouch thinks offhandedly that these cuff links he's so recently purchased really do not suit him at all; they're too flashy. "What did you say your name was?"

"Ah, I'm Suzaku, sir, at your service." The young man flashes him a smile; and he's really quite charming, a lazy-sunshine quality emanating from that show of teeth. "If you need me, just press '0'. I'll be up as soon as I can."

"I thought you were a bellboy," Lelouch trails off, his gaze flickering to the metal luggage cart that accompanied Suzaku during the long trip to the thirty-second floor. "Or are they really that short-handed around here?"

Undaunted by the arrogance, Suzaku replies, "I wear a lot of hats. Well, I'll be leaving now. Remember, press '0.'"

And then Lelouch is alone.

The suite boasts intricate twall designs in its main room, which also holds the handful of gold-embroidered white couches. Blue silk curtains hang from the large window, beyond which was a rather lovely view of the city, India-ink sky punctured by its multicolored lights. He'd spend more time admiring it if he were simple enough to be impressed by scenery.

Because he is by no means a simple man; his company, Lamperouge Industries, has gleaned millions since last year, when it was a fledgling concept written longhand by himself and C.C. in a composition book. Since then he has known no discomfort, prattling admirers and silver platters abound.

Lelouch opens up his suitcase and unpacks his clothing; he'll be in town for exactly one week for his seminar, after which he'll be returning home to Nunnally and C.C., who's 'using his palace of a house for lodging until certain people help her find a new place', end quote. Oftentimes he wonders why he hasn't kicked her out in a fit of irritation; but then of course, his sister has taken a liking to her, and what kind of brother would be that 'heartless'?

Or so C.C.'s reasoning had inquired.

His hands grow grabbier as he sifts through more of his belongings, tossing folded shirts and slacks onto the bed before him. Having always been a good planner it's a personal failure to have forgotten anything - namely shampoo.

Violet eyes flicker to the small phone on the oak table, its beeping red light (Service Available) bringing Suzaku's sunny smile to mind. Hotels always have extra toiletries should a usually tactful man find himself forgetting them in moments of weakness.

For the first time tonight, he presses 0.

"Oh? Hello, Mr. Lamperouge. How can I help?" he suspect's Suzaku's been programmed to say that to everyone who dials his line, but the guy is so damn practiced Lelouch almost believes he_ wants_ to be of assistance.

"Yes, I... my second bag was lost. Do you happen to have shampoo I could use?" Because even though asking someone else for help is not past him, admitting he made a mistake is. He's always been prideful.

"Of course. I'll be right up," the Japanese man prattles cheerfully, with a prompt disconnection. Lelouch holds the receiver, a sigh drifting from his wintry mouth. He'd probably forgotten to pack the shampoo in his haste, coupled with his attempts to ignore C.C.'s heckling as she followed him around the house in her white bathrobe, whining about the lack of good pizza places in his part of town (the rich part, of course). He'd told her rather bluntly that the more affluent residents of Pendragon did not shove their faces full of greasy starchy knockoff Italian food; she'd promptly gone after him with a large Limoge of the Eiffel Tower, ready to 'smash his puny ass'.

Any one of those things could have contributed to the fact that he forgot it.

But now it matters not. He drifts into the bathroom, catching sight of himself in the overlarge mirror and sliding his hair off his forehead. Come to think of it, he probably needs to get that trimmed up soon. _Mental note: have Sayoko make you an appointment._

A sharp and annoyingly loud knock on the door jerks him from his reverie; it's Suzaku with the shampoo. Upon opening the door he's faced with a glimmering pair of green eyes. "Hello, sir. I've got a few different kinds since I'm not sure what you use. May I-may I come in?" he notes the rather rigid way the black-haired man stands against the doorjamb, but then he moves to grant him entry. "Do you like your suite? It's the finest we have."

"It's adequate," Lelouch sniffs, wondering briefly if he's offended Suzaku, but the other shows no signs he's affronted, just pulls aside the lacquered shower curtain and deposits the bottles in the rack there.

"There you go," he says affably. "Will there be anything else?"

Will there be? He looks upon Suzaku, sizing him up. He's a bit shorter, darker-skinned, his brown hair jutting out from under the plain black cap that matches his gold-monogrammed uniform. A uniform which, although being relatively loose, does nothing to hide the toned arms and legs.

A very nice picture. He licks his lips, a gesture that would be flagrantly sexual were they not so obviously chapped. "I'll call you if I think of anything."

"I aim to serve you, sir," Suzaku says, a bit blearily; blearily because his real focus is upon the hotel's newest patron, a tall man with a lean, willowy body and one of those sharp, unforgivingly pretty faces; and that way of pulling his nerves taut that he's always hated about people he finds attractive. "Anything at all." He hopes the words don't come out as wanton as they did in his head.

And evidently that hope was futile. A dark eyebrow rises, but nothing more is said on that matter. "Thank you."

He's alone again.

But this time he's got a mission: to think of anything, anything at all, that will bring Suzaku back up here.

He pulls his notes from his attaché case, laying them across the wide black coffee table. He dons his reading glasses and sets to work, studying the key points he wishes to present at the seminar.

Things regarding company policy and how human resources needs improvements; improvements in the form of about half the workers being laid off and replaced by more capable people. While he is for the most part humane, Lelouch has a very low tolerance for mediocrity and acts as such. Most of his colleagues worship him for it, anyway.

He clears his throat and takes a drink of water, his creative and innovative muscles flexing as he attempts to formulate gentle ways to fire people. C.C. usually takes care of that as she's no stranger to adversity (their scuffle with the Limoge this morning is proof enough of that) but he's been called upon on the basis of being _uninvolved with the little people_.

Snort. Why do they think he became a CEO, to deal with their childish problems? Blasphemy.

Another knock; this one is less rapt than the other. "Come in," he calls out again, excitement high in his ribcage. Indeed, it is Suzaku. "Hello again."

He didn't call, but who is he to question it? After all, just a few minutes ago he was dying to get the young man back up here, and here are his prayers answered in the form of that black-clad bellboy/serviceman himself, walking into his palace of a suite with much less purpose than before.

"Hi." Another smile. "What's that you're working on?" he supposes he should apologize for coming in without any real reason to (well, there is a reason, but it's not particularly work-related) but he doesn't think he _imagined_ the vibe Lelouch Lamperouge put off.

"Key points for my presentation." His eyes sweep up to Suzaku, who's rounded the couch to come closer to him.

"It must be nice to have a job with some freedom," the Japanese male says humbly. "It really gets old to act like you love everyone all the time."

"You had me convinced." Lelouch smiles demurely, placing his pen on the table and looking up to the brunet. "I was wondering where you got the drugs you were on."

Suzaku scoffs; but he's smiling. "No, I'm just practiced. I've been working here a few years now. A lot of assholes come through and think they're better than everyone else." Though to be perfectly honest they are; he's seen diplomats, ambassadors, famous writers, and CEOs just like the man in front of him who at first gave him that same impression-but it was overshadowed by the other one. The one that made his face hot and his breath come short.

"You must not be very fond of me, then." Carefully he gauges Suzaku's reaction and it is, wonderfully, just as he expected it.

A blush, dusting over the flanges of that thin nose and the apples of his sun-darkened cheeks. "Ah, well, I don't know you very well, Mr. Lamperouge," he murmurs, a stutter-shook way about him. Lightly his foot presses against the floor, sliding over it with his shiny Oxford shoe.

And, blinking a gentle blink that would go unnoticed by most, Lelouch replies, "Would you like to get to know me?"

A split-second; shamrock eyes jump to violet ones, a chest heaving so subtly it's almost nonexistent. He rolls the idea around in his head; surely the man before him is very handsome, and he exudes that elegant charm he's always liked in men.

His beeper flickers, red at his waistband, and he breaks their gaze. "Looks like someone else needs me," Suzaku replies with an uneasy laugh, watching Lelouch's face remain impassive as he gets to his feet. "I'll be back," he promises, but not before a hand catches his on the doorknob.

"You said you'd do anything I wanted." And the voice in his ear twirls heated down his spine; Lelouch is so close they're nearly touching. He smells like lavender and something else, harder, more masculine. "What's your policy on sex?"

His heart pounds, throat going dry; the words themselves make his knees buckle, and the breath against his nape isn't making it any better.

"I barely know you."

But something changes his mind; something flips that cerebral switch of abandon. Maybe it's the fact that he's done this before, engaged in mutual pleasure with his arrogant and otherwise unbearable patrons, never speaking to them after the tryst and never feeling a real desire to. Maybe it's the fact that, regardless, he's reeled in now, as he always is.

And maybe it's the way Lelouch's arm hooks around his waist, the other hand swiveling his head to bring him close enough to-close enough to-

_Oh, god_.

He tastes of a sharp musk, as well as something rather sweet; or perhaps that's just the way he laughs breathlessly into their shared cavern, spurring Suzaku to the realization of how much time has passed between now and his last sexual encounter - which is the greater half of forty-eight hours.

The taller male whips him around, his lips running along the curve of his jaw, along the tender flesh under his skin, and then finally to his neck, where he laves enthusiastically. "Is this okay?" he inquires, low and droll. At the blunt nod he laughs against Suzaku's jugular, "I'll make it fun for you, don't worry..."

Thoughts collide and bleed into one another in the muddles confines of Suzaku's rapidly dispersing mind; however, he can focus on the head webbing through his neck, sprawling across his back, and-when Lelouch nips at his neck-below his belt.

"Hh-" his eyes shoot down when he feels a hand grasp at his cock, then back up to Lelouch's-which are alight with the feral gleam of some predatory cat. Excitement bursts hot and heavy through his nervous system and just that fast, he wonders how he ever thought of leaving.

"Why, Suzaku, I'm _flattered_," he murmurs, massaging the stirring length, "This hard already?"  
"Because of you," he replies breathlessly, thoughtlessly, his head tipping back against the cold wood of the door. At this the other male smirks. "How old are you, anyway?"

A squeeze; Lelouch twists his wrist.

"I'm thirty-three," he informs almost lazily, stroking with fervor; he's not sure where the decision to seduce Suzaku came from, (and all things considered this is probably the wrong time to deliberate it) but then again the decision to form a company had been a spontaneous one as well, and hadn't that one been prosperous? "I'd guess you're a few years younger."

"I'm-ngh, twenty-six," as he ruts against Lelouch's hand, his balls create a minimal yet torrid friction with each movement against the door.

"Don't tease," he admonishes, peering down the length of his body at Lelouch's lewdly jerking wrist. "Get down to business."

And he's content to do something for Suzaku; after all, that _was_ a fine variety of shampoo he delivered.

Swiftly he undoes the simple black belt and reaches inside; coming into conflict with the hard flesh, he shudders, a low pulsing in his belly as he jerks off his trembling serviceman, whose rapidly-quickening breaths are growing desperate. "How long has it been since you've-"

"Two nights ago," he whines, sharing it with uncharacteristic abandon.

Though reader, who is ever judgmentally apt in these situations?

For reasons unknown, Lelouch likes what he heard. "You get around, do you," he purrs, and Suzaku nods, really beyond caring. The taller man drops to his knees and lifts him from his black slacks, relishing in the relieved groan released from previously so polite lips. "That explains it," he traces his fingers over the cock before swabbing his thumb over the leaking head, "why you were so eager."

And then he sinks over him, smirking a bit when hands claw at his head; he doesn't stop until his nose is buried in wiry brown hair. Promptly, he swallows.

And Suzaku cries out, guttural, further losing himself. His legs tremble, still half-covered with his standard-issue black slacks.

Whenever Lelouch releases him and then swallows to the root again, the room before him blurs, the lights outside some warped painting, and distantly he realizes his beeper has fallen on the ground, still an insistent red against the mahogany.

A pale hand slaps it away and it careens across the floor, settling somewhere in the large bathroom. "You're on my time now," says a muffled voice from his crotch, "Suzaku."

With that, his cock is released from that hot grip, replaced by that skilled hand. "Do you fuck everyone who stays in this room?"

"Not... always... ha.. if he wants it.." he's bucking openly now, sharing things with Lelouch he wouldn't share with his closest friends (the few he has).

Then again no one has ever expressly asked him.

Maintaining a tone relatively low, and as blisteringly conversational as one used by someone talking about the weather, Lelouch inquires, "Do you let them come inside?"

His cheeks burn at that. "I'm not the one in charge."

And inside, Lelouch weeps for all the bellboys of the world. "Turn around."

And of course he complies, his nose bonking lightly against the oak wood, as skilled hands frisk and squeeze at his behind. "I couldn't see how big your ass was in those pants," Lelouch comments vaguely, giving the flesh a hard slap and hearing Suzaku's compressed groan, under the cover of both his hands, pressed against his mouth and the door. "Who cares if they hear," he says coldly, with a more firm strike, "I'm sure they'll be glad you're such a idedicated/i worker."

"Stop it," he mutters, muffled, a bit ashamed at the way his cock juts so pretentiously from his lap, jerking at the barbed words. "Just-"

"Fuck you already? I was getting to that." And with at, long fingers slide inside him, kicking around and scissoring, and unintentionally Suzaku clenches himself on them, whimpering rather desperately as it's getting harder and harder to hold on. "Relax. Don't rush me." Contradicting himself, Lelouch stands up to his full height, winding an arm around Suzaku's neck and burying his face in it, his fingers slamming into him quicker and invoking cut-off groans and grunts. It's particularly arousing, Lelouch finds, to hear him try and keep quiet.

It doesn't matter if he doesn't know him; it doesn't matter that at first he thought him a pretentious snob. The only thing that matters at this very moment is the lazy circles Lelouch is rubbing at his entrance with the head of his own erection, and then-

Suzaku sags against the door, one hand knuckled white against its handle and the other bracing him against the wall. He whines, earning a sharp smack to his hip. "Compose yourself," Lelouch says (contradicting his previous imperatives) sounding about a thousand miles away as he throws his hips forward a second time; Suzaku hisses and his ass thrusts back. "How exactly... why do you have this... job if you hate it so much?"

Eyes pinched shut, mouth open and leaking drool, Suzaku can't quite find it in him to respond as searing heat twines through him, his insides being rubbed so tightly along Lelouch.

"Or.. don't you?" Pale, long-fingered hands settle on his strong hips as he continues to thrust, his words chopped by the movement, "Do you.. like this? The ease of access... to any man you want.."

His lungs starved for air, Suzaku finally musters enough oxygen to reply, "No, I-student loans." Though he supposes Lelouch may be right; perhaps he knows, in some backward compartment of his mind, that it'd be much harder to find partners this quickly and without the fuss that accompanies sleeping with people from school. However any further deliberation he may have had collapses in a cloud of smoke as Lelouch's speed increases; he presses his cheek against the door.

The taller male throws his head back, a low groan escaping his lips. iOh, oh yes./i His hands rove over the shapely hips and the strong curve of Suzaku's tan backside, feeling the muscles of his lower back contract and flex as he thrusts back on his cock, pulverizing it with that searing grip. "You don't care... that they're strangers?"

A fast shake-of-head: "It's better-_ngh, _it's better that way."

Long arms snake around his chest, and Lelouch presses more intimately against his back, burying his face again in his neck as they writhe against the door. He can feel the slight frictional heat of Lelouch's pants-merely just slipped down below his crotch-rubbing against him, hear the jangling of both their belts, almost taste Lelouch's scent, that lavender perfumed now with the pungent scent of sex, and it only further muddles his mind, pushing him higher and higher, approaching the imminent cloud nine.

Minutes pass and Lelouch grows more animalistic, biting into his shoulder with both hands pressed flush against his chest. But it does not matter to Suzaku, who's too far gone to even hear the murmured teases and taunts of the man pounding so deliciously into him. He licks across his swollen lips and angles his head backward to kiss with little focus at snide lips, his behind speeding up to meet the tawdry thrusts. Lelouch smiles against his mouth and aims just a bit higher-

And then, the world's pressed so tightly into such a little space, and Suzaku cannot think, analyze, wonder - he can just feel.

In other words, he comes. Hard.

His mind spiraling, freewheeling, away from rationality, Suzaku feels Lelouch continue to thrust into him, his breathing growing seedy, erratic, and it's not even ten seconds later that he's followed suit, calling out in a way Suzaku didn't think he was even capable of.

Their breathing punctures the heady silence; and to his surprise Lelouch seems desperate, gasping as if he's coming up on an asthma attack, or something similar. Suzaku considers throwing in a jab about his poor stamina (perhaps revenge for the taunting) but finds his mind baseless, deliriously numb and buzzy in the aftermath.

"I only have one more requirement of you tonight." Once he's caught his breath, that torrid arrogance has returned, crisp in the otherwise silent room. "Clean this mess up."

Keeping his eyes trained on the floor, Suzaku gets up and hoists his (sullied) boxers and slacks up his hips, buckling the belt with ponderous fingers. He can feel Lelouch's gaze on him, as insistent and intimidating as it had been before.

He speaks that titular phrase that's crossed so many parameters, on this night and others: "Yes, sir. I aim to serve you."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

"Kururugi?"

He breaks from his reverie (said reverie being a game of Tetris) looking up over his shoulder, his back automatically stiffening at the sight of his boss. "Yes, Mr. Gottwald?"

A cold gaze jaunts over him; over his cell phone, where it's clear he's been playing a game while sitting at his phone station. "There's been an envelope dropped off for you at the front. No return address."

A light frown spiderwebs across his face, but Suzaku gets up nonetheless. It's probably some stupid note from Rivalz or another lengthy Christmas list from Shirley ("But you should know what I like anyway!").

He passes his fellow servicemen, those more diligent than he, writing up detailed reports on all items and food orders they delivered to patrons, as well as the times those things were delivered.

The mail girl gives him the envelope without even a second look at him; they share an unbridled dislike since she once hit on him, to no avail. He thumbs at the envelope, taking his time to tear it open.

Brown eyebrows shoot up at the scores of bills inside (equaling up to about a thousand dollars), and he wonders if this was some sort of mistake; if this was in fact a budget for something. "Who delivered this?"

"Guest," she says flatly. "Skinny guy. Black hair."

Suzaku purses his lips and looks into the envelope, seeing a tiny scrap of paper he probably would've overlooked. _Isn't it lovely to be paid for a job well done? Repeat business is encouraged. -Lelouch_

He sighs, a cool wave wringing down his spine. It's going to be a long week.

And that notion alone satisfies him like nothing else.

.,.,.,.,.,.

For a day and a half's work, I think it's adequate.

Anyway, y'all need to take a trip over to the kink meme. It needs love. ~

Violetta will be updated within the next week or so, as well.

…I'll run away now.


End file.
